


Dreams

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, First Times, M/M, None - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair has trouble sleeping, any more than that and the summary will be longer than the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting using the interface, please excuse any errors. If you do see any, please feel free to drop me a line.

## Dreams

by Liz

* * *

Sleeping, Blair flipped over and sighed restlessly, his dreams ambushing him. 

* * *

Falling. He was falling in a little box. Stuffed into this little metal cube, his knees around his ears, with not enough room to even sit up straight as he plummeted. 

The box jerked to a halt and bounced as if on a bungie cord, knocking his shoulders into the walls. Then, more movement. This time the sensation of being drawn upwards as if the cord was being re-wound for another drop. 

"jim??" The name was a plea. 

Ellison's voice filtered in, tinny and staticy, "Sandburg? Sandburg?! Are you still being bounced around in there?" 

Blair almost laughed bitterly and murmured, "where else would I be, man?" 

Then the box jerked and he was falling. Falling again. 

* * *

He started with a gasp, half sitting up in bed and then relaxed back onto the pillows, not really ever waking. 

* * *

Running. He was running and the leaves and branches were slapping wetly across his protectively raised arm. And every time he looked over his shoulder at his pursuers he got drenched by more wet leaves. 

He stumbled, regained his balance and ran on, determined not to be the panicked, clumsy victim so often seen in horror movies. Watching where he was running, he concentrated on hearing the chase follow. 

They weren't quiet about it. Ripping through the underbrush, shouting and snarling, occasionally shooting wildly into the air with pistols, apparently they were saving the shotguns for closer range. 

Blair ducked under low branches and through small openings, using his size and flexibility to gain time. 

"JIM!" He shouted, since they knew where he was anyway. 

"This way, Chief. Over here," came the response, and he turned to look. 

Jim stood at the entrance to a cave. He had his gun, a backpack and flashlight and was motioning Blair inside. With an extra burst of speed, Blair dashed across the distance and into the mouth of the cave. 

"Keep going, Chief. I'll slow them and be right behind you." 

Blair nodded and turned to jog into the dark. He heard Jim fire off several rounds at the bellowing maniacs and his footsteps following as Blair moved into the dark. 

It was so dark ahead, where was Jim with the flashlight and the Sentinel eyes? For that matter, where _was_ Jim? 

Wait, was that more than one set of footsteps behind him? 

"Jim?" The name was a breath of air. 

There was a light ahead in the tunnel. 

* * *

His eyes sprang open and noted vaguely the predawn glow to the room. 

He tried to catch his breath from the last dream but sleep pulled him down again. 

* * *

Waiting. He was waiting, for Jim to come, for the psycho to come. He couldn't move, chained or paralyzed, it didn't really matter. 

And then, there above him, were eyes. Not the bright blue eyes of his partner, his Sentinel but the crazed brown eyes of his psycho of the week. Eyes that wanted to suck him in and devour him. And he couldn't move from the terror. 

The eyes blinked and shifted, become a different shade of brown, a different madness but still wanting to destroy him. Shifting through several sets of colors and degrees of evil but never to that one reassuring shade of blue. And then they were back to the first horrifying pair. 

Hands reached for him and he screamed. 

"JIM!!!!!" The name was desperation. 

Still screaming as the hands touched him, he seemed even more frozen than before. But the hands were gentle on his face, caressing his cheeks and forehead, stroking back the terror-tangled curls. 

And then there was warmth, warmth surrounding him and filling him. A feeling of safety and security coming along with it. 

* * *

He awoke, finally, feeling the warmth still surrounding him. Lying and simply enjoying it for the moment, the sensations finally made sense to his dream-fogged mind. 

His head was cradled in strong hands woven into his hair. A wide chest over his poured heat down upon him. Soft, gentle lips moved over his in a tender kiss. They massaged him, loved him, gently opened his mouth to allow his tongue to be stroked and he responded in kind, in the same slow dreamlike manner. 

Stubble rasped very lightly as the lips left his and that popped his eyes open. Two more quick short kisses followed and he looked up into Jim's warm blue eyes. 

"Feeling better now, Chief?" 

Blair nodded dazedly. 

"Good, breakfast is in about 20 minutes." Jim smoothed the curls back one more time, then disengaged his hands and rose from Blair's bed. 

"Jim?" 

Ellison paused at the French doors, looked at him, smiled and wandered out into the kitchen. 

"Jim???!!!" The name was a plaintively hopeful question. 

~Fin~ 


End file.
